Whatever listeners may think of Mstislav Rostropovich's first recording of Shostakovich's Symphony No. 5 with the National Symphony Orchestra, it is a historical document of the utmost importance to anyone who claims to love the music of Shostakovich.

"The greatest cellist of modern time" – well, who could argue with a statement like that? After all, Mstislav Rostropovich is a supreme virtuoso, a charismatic performer, and a sublime interpreter and virtually every one of his recordings is as good as it gets for the repertoire.

Mstislav Rostropovich is one of the few musicians who can create a larger-than-life experience through the combined forces of exceptional music, a beautiful instrument, and uncommonly facile communicative skills. In his performances of Bach's transcendent masterpieces for solo cello, Rostropovich finds a perfect balance between a romantic, rhapsodic interpretation and one that emphasizes the purely formal "aridity" of Bach's structures. Although it's nearly impossible to isolate one or two highlights, the Sarabande and Prelude from Suite No. 5 are among the most profoundly moving cello performances you will ever hear–the closest we probably will ever come to experiencing through music the soul of both Rostropovich and Bach.

This 7CD set is the fruit of the love affair that developed in Paris between Leonard Bernstein and the Orchestre National de France in the 1970s. Beside long-admired studio recordings, featuring Mstislav Rostropovich and Alexis Weissenberg among the soloists, it presents live performances completely new to the catalogue: a 1975 programme to celebrate Ravel’s centenary – with Bernstein himself as soloist in the G major piano concerto – and orchestral suites taken from two of Bernstein’s most celebrated and brilliant works, both infused with jazz: the film score On the Waterfront and the landmark Broadway musical West Side Story.

The famous Russian director Sergei Eisenstein held Prokofiev the film composer in the highest regard, and to couple their two celebrated collaborations, Ivan the Terrible and Alexander Nevsky, in a two-disc set is therefore entirely appropriate. Ivan the Terrible, however, is a problematic score. Assembled by Abram Stassevich after the composer’s death, the oratorio lacks the large-scale balances and tensions of Prokofiev’s own Nevsky cantata, relying on narration to hold the structure together. This substantial English version by Michael Lankester, intended to ‘compensate for the lack of visual image’, is well projected by Christopher Plummer. Rostropovich directs a vivid performance of Alexander Nevsky, and only the rich tone of Russian voices is lacking. The LSO plays brilliantly, while the recording does full justice to one of Prokofiev’s finest scores.

This imaginatively-curated, generously-filled Christmas package is sure to find favor during this and future holiday seasons. Why? Because it packs in every conceivable carol, tune, choral work or song in timeless performances from the greatest artists in the world: singers of immense communicative gifts including Cecilia Bartoli, Bryn Terfel, Renee Fleming and Luciano Pavarotti to name but four. It truly offers something of every Christmas mind, spirit, and looks fantastic.

The history of the Russian chamber ensemble of the middle of the 20th century, in all possibility, did not know a more intricate yet remarkable brilliant group of musicians than the celebrated trio of Emil Gilels. Leonid Kogan and Mstislav Rostropovich. All to different in their essence were these three artistic individualities – these three virtuosos, spoilt children of fortune, who were brought together at various stages of disclosure of their outstanding talents. At that, there was not a great difference between their respective ages – Gilels was born in 1916, Kogan was born in 1924 and Rostropovich was born in 1927. Nonetheless, whereas Gilels was already able to reconsider and revise in many ways his principles of work, departing further and further from a pure demonstration of capabilities of his breathtaking technique, Rostropovich and Kogan were still passing through their lengthy period of thrill over their virtuosic powers, affecting their audiences in a straightforward manner.

It's a pity that this recording has become somewhat hard to find- the arrangements are simply lovely (as well as some of the original works for organ and cello such as the Prayer by Saint-Saens). Although Rostropovich's lush sound does not completely match well to this recording's rather harsh harpsichord, the effect is quite wonderful on the pieces with organ. Highly recommended if you love the cello.

This is a fine specimen of what duo-playing can and should be. My pleasure in this record is in no small measure down to my enthusiasm for these particular works, among the most attractive and significant products of early romanticism. Chopin's cello sonata seems to me an even better work than his piano sonatas. None other than Tovey gives it high marks for construction, even forgetting for once to include his near-invariable reference to Beethoven as the benchmark in all such matters. Chopin had written for the cello in his early years, and the opus 3 introduction-and-polonaise is included here, but the sonata has a sheer self-assurance about that sounds as if he had been composing for it all his life.

These two titans play like men possessed with a rare spiritual fire that lifts the music to the highest levels of art. Rostropovich plays like a madman - he looks and sounds like a man in the throws of ecstatic union with the gods of music. At times literally attacking his instrument, at times making love to it - his youth and passion are raw and exposed. Brilliant! They are both huge risk takers with their music making here - exposing their souls in this performance. I am in awe of their work.

Take two of the twentieth century’s greatest instrumental soloists, put them together at the service of Beethoven in a live recital, film it and you get what we have here – an historic musical document that is both important and inspirational.
This single concert was recorded at the Usher Hall during the Edinburgh Festival in 1964 and the West was still getting used to being able see and hear these sensational Soviet artists in the flesh. Until the late ’fifties they had been virtually locked behind the "Iron Curtain".

This is a quite extraordinary achievement. Not the least of its merits is that it leaves you loving the music as never before. The orchestra gives splendid support and the sound is warm and ingratiating.

— Gramophone Magazine